The conversation in the hall immediately stopped. Both men walked in, and she wasn’t at all surprised to find that one of them was Charles McGuinness, sporting an obnoxiously smarmy grin, and the other ...Kelsi took in a sharp inhale of breath.
The memories came back to her in a rush. Finding him in the parking lot, him apologizing to her, the handkerchief. He’d drugged her. Her eyes narrowed into slits as the betrayal and anger filtered through and overwhelmed her fear.
“You,” she sneered at Sheridan.
To his, albeit minimal, credit, he looked a little green. “Kelsi, I’m sorry, I didn’t want—” He broke off at a scoff from McGuinness and looked away from her. He truly seemed apologetic and like he would rather be anywhere other than in that small, cold room with Kelsi and a likely murderer.
Kelsi wasn’t interested in his apologies. “Save it.” Her voice was raspy with disuse and she coughed weakly. She waited until he looked back at her and made eye contact before continuing. “Your apologies mean nothing to me.”
He flinched at the bitter tone and the fire in her eyes.
McGuinness clapped his hands together to get their attention. He was a good-looking man, she supposed. Rather bland or generic; there was nothing special about him. She could see how he would fit in at the country club, another carbon copy of the polo-sporting rich pricks. His eyes, though, were hard and dark brown, close to black. They marked him as different from the rest. There was no life in them. They were cold and calculating. She shuddered when they landed on her.
“Well, Ms. Cameron, you’re probably wondering why I asked you here.”
She snorted before breaking into hysterical giggles. “Asked me? Asked me?” she howled, finally lapsing into soft chuckles after a long bout of laughter. “You fucking kidnapped me, you piece of shit.”
McGuinness sat down in one of the chairs at the table and primly crossed one leg over the other. He spread his arms wide. “Ahh, semantics, my dear. You say tomato, I say to-mah-to.”
Kelsi glanced warily around her, searching for anything she could use to escape if needed. Unfortunately, the only things she might be able to use sat on the table. Right next to McGuinness.
Still looking uncomfortable, Sheridan pulled the other chair out from the table and sat down. He bent over, resting his elbows on his knees and staring down at the ground.
Kelsi looked him over with disgust before refocusing on McGuinness, who appeared angry at not having her full attention. “Okay, let’s hear it,” Kelsi spat at him. “Why did you bring me here?”
His gleeful laugh grated on her nerves and skittered down her back like a lecherous finger, causing her to shiver with disgust. He thumbed his chin thoughtfully. “It was past time for us to speak, I think. Besides, I needed you to miss your trial. Give your boy some motivation for tanking the case. You see, the last note will be for him.”
She stilled, trying to get her brain to make sense of what he was saying. “What do you mean, tank the case?”
“Well, we need your little soldier to go in and get me acquitted. Nobody would believe that I had nothing to do with it if something happens to you both before the trial. Or if he dismisses the case. But if he goes in and ‘tries’ and the jury of my respected peers finds me not guilty?” He chuckled again. “Now, that’s far less likely to raise suspicion.”
He tilted his head at her like a predator staring down his prey, and gave a slow smile that showed too much teeth—it couldn’t be described as anything other than feral. “Plus, ifI’m not guilty, they can never charge me with it again. Perks of our legal system’s double jeopardy rule, huh? So, I like my current plan the best. And besides, there won’t be any proof of interference, will there?”
Even with whatever drugs Sheridan had given her, fogging her brain and slowing her thought process, Kelsi still couldn’t ignore his reference to there being no proof. That likely meant that she, and Dylan, would not be around to testify against him. He planned to kill them both.
The realization made her struggle against her bonds, pulling her wrists taut against the zip ties in her attempt to free her hands, but it was futile. Short of dislocating her thumbs in order to squeeze her hands out of the ties, she had no options. Besides, if she did get free, he would still be there to stop her, and she didn’t trust that she could physically overpower him, let alone both men.
Sheridan obviously put together McGuinness’s meaning as well, albeit much slower than she did. He lurched to his feet, face going as pale as death as he stared down at McGuinness, who lounged in the folding chair as though it was a throne. “No, this is too far. I can’t be a part of this.”
McGuinness examined his fingernails, not bothering to even look at Sheridan, who was sweating. Perspiration glistened on his forehead and his dark-gray shirt developed darker circles around his armpits.
“Sit down, Sheridan.” McGuinness folded his hands in his lap, slowly lifting his gaze to Sheridan, who trembled lightly. “What did you expect would happen after you kidnapped her? Besides, if you had done your job properly and scared her into dropping this case, she wouldn’t have to die today. So, really, this whole thing is your fault.”
He turned from Sheridan, who collapsed back into his chair, greener than before.
Kelsi tilted her head as she looked between Sheridan and McGuinness. “So, it was you all along. You were the one leaving me all the threatening notes and flowers.”
Sheridan looked at the blank wall but nodded
in acknowledgment.
“Why? Because he asked you nicely? Because he offered you money?” She hated the hurt that leaked into her voice, but she couldn’t help it. She’d trusted this man, thought him her friend, and all the while he’d been conspiring to hurt her.
Thank God she’d never let him kiss her.
“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t want to, I swear, but—”
McGuinness cut off Sheridan’s beseeching tone and rolled his eyes. “Don’t let his sniveling fool you. He came to me for help. Got in over his head with the local bookie at some underground gambling ring in Fairfax. He approached me, asked if I could spot him the money to settle his debts. I could, of course, afford it.” He grinned at Sheridan. “But I needed something out of it too. So, he agreed to transfer to the tiny, inept department and help me with little tasks. Seeing that a piece of evidence was ‘lost.’ Digging up dirt on a witness to get them to retract their statement. Replacing a sweet little old woman’s insulin. Little things, but they add up over time.”
